I get down on my knees next to Brimar and grip his chair.
“What can I do?” When my eyes fall to the impaled part of his palm, I dry-heave again, and again. “It’s just so disgusting. I’m sorry, but oh God, that’s so vile.”
“Lilly, maybe take a step back,” Keller says as I dry-heave again. Lara arrives with the first aid kit and towels.
“Are you going to take it out?” I ask, hovering now. “I think you should take him to the hospital. Don’t you think? I almost murdered him. There has to be some sort of penance for that. Is there? Does it go on my record? Do royals have records? Oh God, you’re just going to pull it out? Wait, is his blood bubbling? Why is it bubbling?”
“Lilly, please step back,” Keller says.
“I’m sorry, I’m just—I can’t believe this happened. I mean, it was headed right for his face, and then BAM, his palm caught it. What if his palm didn’t catch the scissors, what if . . .” My voice trails off as the worst-case scenario hits me straight in the chest. “What if—what if it impaled his eye?”
That does me in.
I can’t hold it back.
My stomach revolts.
My body shakes.
And then, in seconds, I puke all over Keller’s back just as he pulls the scissors out of Brimar’s palm. The smell of the puke, the sound of Brimar’s pain, and blood bubbling over his hand . . . it’s more than I can take.
The world fades around me.
And my body crashes to the floor.
Chapter Sixteen
KELLER
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lilly’s vomit seeps into my shirt, her body’s lifeless on the floor, and I have a pair of bloody scissors in my hand.
“I’m fine,” Brimar says. “Take care of her. I think she cracked her head on the side of the table.”
“Shit,” I say, unsure of what to fucking do with the puke on my back other than losing the shirt. I take the scissors and cut a slit at the collar of my shirt, and then, like the fucking Hulk, I rip the shirt open and say, “Lara, help me take this off.”
She peels it off my back, gathering the puke, and then takes it to the kitchen, where she throws it out.
I turn toward Lilly, who’s lying lifeless on the floor, and I gently examine her, rolling her to her side, where I find a gash on her forehead. The exact spot where she got hit in the head with the broom. The wound has reopened.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I reach for the first aid kit. “Lara, take care of Brimar.”
“Sure thing,” she says as we both grab for gauze in the first aid kit.
I soak up her blood, dabbing gently while examining the rest of her body, making sure she didn’t hurt anything else. I’m checking over her arms when her eyes flutter open.
“I . . . I can see your nipples,” she says. Of course, that would be the first thing out of her mouth.
I glance down at my chest and then back up at her. “That’s because you puked on my back.”
“No, that doesn’t sound like me,” she says. “I don’t do embarrassing things like that.”
“Well, you did, then you passed out, hit your head, and reopened your wound.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh.
“You seem agitated,” she says.
“I am agitated.”
“Uh-oh,” she whispers. “Was it something I did?”
Lara chuckles next to me, and I say from over my shoulder, “Don’t humor her.”
“Sorry,” Lara says. “She’s just so oblivious sometimes, it’s funny.”
“Ouch, be careful,” Brimar says. “She might’ve stabbed me in the meat, but it still hurts.”
“Wait . . . is that Brimar?” Lilly asks. “Oh God, that’s right, I impaled him with scissors.” She reaches out her hand . . . to nobody. “Brimar, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to.” She dry-heaves, and to fuck if I’m going to have her throw up again.
I grab the supplies I need, loop my arms under her, and then lift her up. “I’m taking her upstairs.”
“Wait, no. Brimarrrrrrr,” Lilly calls out as I leave the living room and head up the stairs. “He’s going to hate me forever. You need to take me back to him so I can apologize properly.”
“You already said sorry, and I’m not about to watch you dry-heave some more.”
I take her into her room, lay her down on her bed, and then spread out my supplies.